Chapter 33

Thomson fell silent.

He knew Dubois was right. The morale problem within the navy was even more serious than the equipment problem. An army that didn't believe it could win was useless no matter how good its gear.

"And," Dubois lowered his voice, "we're not completely without leverage."

"What do you mean?"

"Technology." Dubois took a list from his briefcase. "I consulted the Military-Industrial Committee. France is ahead of the Germans in certain fields. For example, optical instruments—our rangefinders are the most accurate in the world. For example, aircraft engines—after the Wright brothers' flight demonstration in France last year, our engineers have already improved the design. And special alloys, machining..."

He pushed the list in front of Thomson:

"We can trade technology for technology. The Germans gave that 'Lanfang' shipbuilding capability, but they probably kept the core technology. If we're willing to share these... they might be more willing to cooperate with us."

Thomson looked at the list, his fingers lightly tapping the desk.

This was a huge gamble. Gambling that the rumor from the Persian Gulf was true, gambling that the people there would be willing to trade with France, gambling that the deal could be kept secret until France obtained a dreadnought...

But what if they won the bet?

If France could obtain a dreadnought, or even the ability to build one independently...

"How many people do you need?" Thomson finally spoke.

Dubois's eyes lit up: "A lean team. I'll lead it myself, bringing two shipbuilding experts, one marine engineer, one metallurgy expert, plus two officials from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs—under the name of the 'French African Mining Company.'"

"General Dubois," Thomson looked at him seriously, "I must warn you: if this mission fails, if it's exposed, you will be the scapegoat. The Navy Ministry, the government, will all deny any connection with you. You could face a court-martial."

"I know." Dubois stood up and snapped to attention. "But if it succeeds, the French Navy will be saved."

Thomson also stood, walked around his desk, and came before Dubois. The old minister reached out and heavily patted the general on the shoulder:

"Charles, the future of the French Navy is in your hands."

"For France."

The two men looked at each other, a tragic and heroic light in their eyes.

They both knew that France had no choice. On the European continent, the German Army already held the advantage. If the seas were also controlled by the German Navy, France would truly be locked in.

They had to break the deadlock.

By any means necessary.

"When do you leave?" Thomson asked.

"Three days from now," Dubois said. "We'll go to Marseille first, then take a ship to Djibouti, and from there find a vessel to the Persian Gulf. We'll use false identities the whole way, and communications will use one-time pads."

"What about funding?"

"The Prime Minister has already approved a special budget." Dubois pulled a check from his pocket—a bearer draft from a Swiss bank, for the sum of five hundred thousand francs. "The first installment. If there's a real deal, more will follow."

Thomson looked at the check and smiled bitterly: "Spending so much money to buy a hope that might not exist."

"Minister," Dubois said seriously, "at sea, sometimes you have to sail through thick fog, relying on your compass and faith to move forward. We're in the fog now, and that rumor from the Persian Gulf is our compass."

He saluted, turned, and left.

Minister Thomson stood alone in his office for a long time, then walked to the window and looked out at the night view of Paris.

The Seine flowed in the darkness, like time, never stopping.

France was once the lighthouse of Europe, a symbol of civilization. But now, that lamp was growing dim.

It had to be relit.

No matter the cost.

Persian Gulf.

In the large conference room of the administration building, people sat on both sides of the long table. The air held a tense excitement, like the low pressure before a storm.

Chen Feng sat at the head of the table, three documents spread open before him. On the left was the confirmation of receipt for the advance payment on the second German order—three hundred and sixty thousand pounds in gold, deposited in a Swiss bank. In the middle was the third-quarter progress report for "Project Cheetah." On the right was a newly received encrypted telegram from Wang Wenwu's Singapore office, reporting that the French special envoy had arrived in Djibouti and was expected to reach the Persian Gulf in ten days.

"Everyone's here." Wang Bo looked around the room and cleared his throat. "Young Master, we can begin."

Chen Feng raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the twelve people present—department heads, main factory managers, the chief engineer of the shipyard, military representatives. In everyone's eyes there was both anticipation and worry.

"There's only one item on the agenda today." Chen Feng spoke, his voice not loud, but every word was clear. "Three hundred and sixty thousand pounds. How to spend it."

Soft intakes of breath sounded in the conference room. Although everyone knew the money had arrived, hearing the number spoken aloud still made hearts race.

"Wang Bo, you go first with the overall budget allocation plan."

Wang Bo put on his reading glasses and opened a thick notebook: "Following Young Master's previous instructions, I have drafted a preliminary allocation plan. Please listen carefully—"

"First, industrial expansion, one hundred and twenty thousand pounds. Mainly for: expanding Steel Mill No. 2 and No. 3, building a new special alloy workshop, procuring large gantry cranes and precision machine tools, expanding the chemical plant, especially the explosives and synthetic ammonia production lines."

"Second, infrastructure construction, eighty thousand pounds. Building the first phase of a standard-gauge railway connecting the port, industrial zone, mining area, and residential district, expanding the power plant, constructing the first modern oil refinery, and expanding the waterworks and sewage treatment system."

"Third, agricultural development, fifty thousand pounds. Drilling fifty deep wells in the oasis area, building irrigation systems, introducing drought-resistant crop seeds from India and Egypt, and expanding the area for greenhouse vegetable cultivation."

"Fourth, the education system, thirty thousand pounds. Expanding the technical school, establishing a secondary specialized school, sending the first batch of twenty outstanding students to study in Deguo, and hiring European teachers at high salaries."

"Fifth, global procurement and strategic reserves, eighty thousand pounds. For Minister Wang's team's ore purchases in Australia, Chile, South Africa, and other places, as well as reserves of necessities like grain and medicine."

Wang Bo finished reading, took off his glasses, and looked at Chen Feng: "Young Master, this is the rough allocation. The specific project budgets will need to be detailed by each department."

Before Chen Feng could speak, Infrastructure Minister Zhou Nian spoke up.

"Grand Leader, eighty thousand pounds for building railways, power plants, oil refineries... it's not enough." The forty-something construction expert shook his head, his fingers tracing calculations on the table. "Just the railway, from the port to the inland mining area, sixty kilometers total. At the minimum standard, the cost per kilometer is four thousand pounds, that's twenty-four thousand. Expanding the power plant is at least fifteen thousand, the oil refinery twenty thousand, the water system ten thousand... and that's not counting labor and contingencies."

"Then cut back." Industrial Minister Li Mingyuan immediately retorted. "Minister Zhou, this is a special period. The railway can be single-track for now, the power plant can use a simplified design, and the oil refinery's Scale can be reduced by a third..."

"Reduced?" Steel mill manager Liu Yongfu slammed the table. "Minister Li, do you know how much special steel 'Project Cheetah' needs? Do you know how much heavy oil the fuel boilers need? If the refinery's Scale is reduced, the shipyard will have to stop and wait for materials!"

"Then what do you suggest? There's only so much money!"

"Enough."